April 6, 2022
- Start: Rabbit Canyon on the Old AZT (mile 625.5)
- End: Russell Tank (mile 651.3)
- Distance: 25.8 miles (+ another 0.8 miles due to a missed turn)
The wind speed dropped significantly overnight, which was a genuine blessing. I doubt my dried lips and chafed skin would have withstood with another arid, blustery day. My face already felt like it was cracking whenever I smiled or laughed at Clothesline’s stories.
I might have been happy about the improvement in the weather conditions, but Volt was on the opposite end of the spectrum. When we set up camp last night, he was still completely exasperated about two bitter discoveries.
The first one had to do with his toothpaste. While we were in Flagstaff doing our resupply, he’d made the mistake of purchasing a full-size toothpaste tube (instead of a trial-size one). The large tube didn’t fit inside the small ziplock bag where he stored his toiletry items, so he resorted to chucking the toothpaste inside his food bag.
Unfortunately, the flip-top cap opened inside his pack between lunch and when we stopped to make camp last night. This blunder coated every single food item in his food bag with sticky toothpaste— and nearly one-third of a tube appeared to be gone! It was absolutely a horrid mess, and he didn’t have enough water or baby wipes to even begin to deal with the mayhem.
The second discovery that put Volt in a caustic mood had to do with some chafing. While post-holing on Humphreys Peak, Volt developed some bad chafing from the wet material on his pants clinging to his thighs.
He attempted to clean off the affected area that first night when we were camping up in the snow night — only to discover that he’d accidentally picked up Lysol disinfecting cleaning wipes in Flagstaff instead of soothing baby wipes! So now the raw, chafed skin on his thighs looked and felt like he had chemical burns on them. That’s not a mistake anybody wants to make!!
I can’t say I blame Volt for being in a sour mood over his bad luck. Even one of these two mishaps would be enough to push the average hiker to a pretty dark place.
KEEP OFF!
Consequently, Volt and I decided to begin the day by hiking separately this morning. He needed the space to be angry at himself, at his resupply choices, and the world.
We weaved our way through the remainder of Rabbit Canyon and back to the “new” AZT route, where the two routes merged once again. The sun was out, and it was another clear, blue day, yet it was much cooler this morning. I suspect yesterday’s wind was part of this sudden cold front moving west.
Up ahead, I could see a series of high-voltage power lines stretching out into the desert, and the trail seemed to be headed straight toward them. It was only a matter of time before I’d intersect with them.
As I stopped to take photos underneath the massive metal towers, I was taken aback by signs on the metal rails warning people not to climb them. These signs had to be posted here because some daredevil disregarded common sense and probably got shocked or lost his balance and fell. One would think simple logic would deter people from such nonsense, and such signs were ridiculously unnecessary. But sadly, you’d be wrong.
I chuckled at the absurd signs. Then I started down the dirt road I’d just intersected, following the road northwest. Just as I disappeared from sight for the powerlines, the trail seemed to turn south. Uh oh. This wasn’t right. Why was the trail turning back toward Flagstaff???
I pulled out my phone and immediately discovered my mistake. I wasn’t supposed to follow the dirt road at the high-voltage towers. I’d missed my turn for the trail back there! And now I was 0.4 miles off track. Damn it! I’d been so busy making fun of people for being foolish that now I was the dumbass!
I made an about-face and turned back toward the power lines once again, walking past some random cows and then watching a horse and rider kicking up dust as they galloped across the desert.
When I finally returned to the metal towers, Volt was there. He was feeling a little better, having worked through some of his frustration and ire over the past 90 minutes. So we joined forces again and set off north to find the real AZT.
GAME TANK
Our next stop this morning was a game tank about a quarter mile off-trail. This was the morning’s only water source, and I desperately needed it. Yesterday’s dry wind made me much more parched than normal, and I drank more than I should have throughout the night.
As we approached, I notice this tank was radically different that any of the earthen or metal tanks I’d encountered thus far on trail. It had an outer perimeter of metal rails designed to keep cattle out while simultaneously allowing wild game (like pronghorn) to enter by nimbly jumping over the rails.
Inside the fence, a taller chain-link fence perimeter protected a rainwater catchment system with a cistern underneath. This tank fed a lonely metal basin from which we could draw our water. Green algae and other detritus floated atop the water’s surface, but the water was cold, and there was plenty of it. Moreover, there was no wild game around to compete with.
As I waited for gravity to filter my water for the day, I began noticing my upper back was sore. This was a new pain I hadn’t experienced during the first 600 miles on the trail. Maybe I just slept wrong last night. Or maybe the pain was a side effect of our snow escapades the last two days.
Either way, the achy pain was significant enough that I dug an 800 mg. ibuprofen pill out of my first aid kit to alleviate the muscle aches. That was the first time I’d felt bad enough to take any medicine on this trail, so I knew I’d have to keep an eye on this problem, for sure!
WOULD YOU RATHER….???
Volt and I drifted apart after the game tank, but I promised to stop around noon for lunch and told him I’d wait for him. I needed to walk at my own pace to let my back loosen up, and I could see his chafe was beginning to bother him, too.
This was just one of those days when our own personal aches and pains seemed to dominate our thoughts and distract us from the trail. Ordinarily, I would have felt guilty about zoning out while I walked, but the scenery was just more of the same flat, dry conditions we’d seen for the past 20 miles.
I stopped for lunch near a junction for the old AZT and new AZT again. The two trails seemed to parallel each other and break apart, then come back together repeatedly – just like a DNA double helix.
Volt had fallen a full half hour behind me and was no longer in sight, even on this flat terrain where it felt like you could see for miles and miles. So I sought out some juniper where I could bury myself deep in its boughs while waiting for him to reappear. Then I removed my shoes, pulled my leggings above my knees, and rested in the sunshine while I leaned my sore back against my pack.
After lunch, I felt obligated to motivate Volt and pull him out of his funk. It was evident that he wasn’t his normal, jovial self. This was one of those bad days where he needed a more experienced thru-hiker’s help. I knew his hike would turn around again in another day or two. But I didn’t want him to make the mistake of thinking he should quit just because he was having a ‘terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.’ We’ve all been there.
I decided we’d hike together at his pace because my back hurt. And I would amuse and distract him with some of the games we played back when the mud drove us both nuts. I asked him questions about his favorite sibling. Then we turned to hypotheticals about what the perfect house floor plan would include. And finally, we landed on lots of “would you rather” questions.
Would you rather eat a tray of 12 frosted cupcakes or 40 tacos? Would you rather walk the rest of the trail in shorts or without sun gloves? Would you rather wear a uniform to work or pick out your own clothes?
This diversion seemed to add a bit of spring to his step, as he was momentarily distracted from his chafe. We walked and talked together until we reached the Moqui Stage Station, the trailhead where the Coconino Rim stage of the AZT began.
COCONINO RIM
At Moqui Stage, we returned to our own paces, planning to hike another 6.7 miles to Russell Tank and camp there for the night. It wouldn’t be our longest day on the trail, but it would push us to nearly 26 miles and allow us to camp with the luxury of water tonight. After that, it was just two more days until the Grand Canyon.
I set off on my own ahead of Volt, and barely five minutes later I nearly stepped directly onto a horned toad that was resting on trail. I came so close to squashing on it, that I literally had to stop my foot in mid-air to prevent the casualty. But it didn’t even bother this little mini-dragon. He stayed completely still awaiting his fate instead of scampering off in a fit of self-preservation like most lizards.
The junipers beside the trail soon gave way to tall ponderosa pines again, which seemed to change the complexion of the trail completely. I was back in a shady forest rather than the exposed desert, even though the ground was the same red dust and rocks.
I’d entered the edge of the Kaibab National Forest, which ran north along the Coconino Rim to the Grand Canyon. Here, we gradually began to gain elevation each day until we reached 7,200 feet on the canyon’s south rim.
Two and a half miles before Russell Tank, I found a rusty metal cistern with “Russell” written in white paint. A tall, six-rung metal ladder was propped against the tank’s side, but it didn’t seem quite high enough for anyone to successfully retrieve water from it—unless the water was spilling over the edge.
I didn’t bother checking if there was water here since I knew I would be camping by the upcoming tank. Instead, I returned my attention to the shade pine forest ahead of me.
Soon thereafter, I noticed blood on my left glove and realized the seam from my new sun gloves (which I’d purchased in Flagstaff) had rubbed a blister on my thumb. Now, the skin was cracked open and bleeding. Sigh! It was just one of those days…
But with our early start and the easy terrain, I was on pace to finish this day of hiking by 5:15 pm. I hadn’t had such an early day in a long time. An easy stop would give me ample time to bandage my blister, stretch out my aching upper back, and tend to any other nagging injuries.
About half an hour later, I rolled up to Russell Tank and discovered it was a nice flat spot with ample space to set up our tents. This tank was just another earthen mud pit filled with water, but it was larger than most. A dam was set on one end to trap the winter snow melt and the heavy rain during the summer monsoon season.
I dropped my pack on a flat grassy spot and went down to the tank to grab my water for the night. When I was done filtering what I needed, I returned back to the muddy-looking tank to grab another two liters for Volt. This was just a small kindness to surprise him when he arrived. Perhaps it would make him feel better.
I set about the upper banks of the tank, scouting for a good spot to pitch my tent. There were so many choices. There wasn’t a soul around, and the ground seemed covered with grass or pine duff wherever I looked.
Yet, there was one extra element here that I needed to consider when selecting the ideal campsite. Russell Tank was a trailhead with an empty parking area and a pit toilet! A friggin’ pit toilet!!! No digging a cathole for me tomorrow morning. I’d get to sit on a real toilet seat! What a morale booster. I was so damn happy that I was still smiling about it when Volt showed up and dropped his pack on the flat patch of grass beside me.
Highlights
- Although the scenery was dull today, it made for easy walking, and I had a marathon’s distance under my belt by 5:15 pm!
- Spotting another horned toad on the trail this afternoon
- Getting to camp early and discovering the luxury of a pit toilet nearby!
Challenges
- Waking up with upper back pain was a bummer. The ibuprofen helped take the edge off, but the niggling pain between my shoulders lasted the entire day.
- Taking a wrong turn near the high-voltage power line towers resulted in me wasting 0.8 miles of precious energy.